Luke (Armed and Dangerous Book 2) (23 page)

Luke tried to think fast, to figure out why Gina had come here, if it wasn’t to kill him for wrecking her life. “Did you set Skylar’s barn on fire to try to get my attention or make your point?”

Gina thrust the pistol closer to him, and her tears flowed faster. “I haven’t done anything to Skylar or the Flying M, and I never would.”

“Sorry. Had to ask.” He had his arms down now, but he gripped the counter behind them to keep his hands in plain view. “There’s a lot going on in Douglas.”

“Look after Brad. I’ll get in touch with him once I’m settled somewhere, but we won’t be able to see each other for a while.” She was keeping Luke sited, had the barrel aimed right at the sweet spot where his heart thumped—steadily for now. “Brad’s in a mess there at Fenning’s. You want to make this up to me, get him out of it, and get him out of it clean. I don’t want to be calling my brother in jail. He’s all I’ve got.”

Now they were getting to it. She did want something from him—maybe even something he could give her. Luke risked folding his arms to give his chest a little cover, and Gina didn’t squeeze her trigger.

“What’s going on at Fenning’s?” he asked.

“If you’re hoping I can hand you Guerrero, keep dreaming.” She blinked her slowing tears out of her eyes, leaned back, and rested her shoulder blades against the cabin’s kitchen wall, near the slot between the refrigerator and the wall where she’d probably been hiding when he got home. “Fenning got lit on the anniversary of his wife’s death and blew away an illegal he caught sneaking across his front yard. Stuffed the body in his meat locker, then sawed it up and left it there. Brad found out about it a few weeks after it happened, and he helped the old man get rid of the body.”

Trinity’s analysis was dead on target, Luke thought, then didn’t like his own word choice. “That could be a problem for your brother, but it’s something we can work with.”

Gina’s face reflected a little relief. “Brad doesn’t want anything to happen to the old guy, and he didn’t want anything to disrupt us here in Douglas, but it’s more than that. Fenning’s children won’t want to keep the ranch—and who do you think will be waiting to buy it, just like he bought Zappati’s?”

Luke had felt some respect for Gina before, and what she must have gone through to get her daughter out of danger. That respect increased as he realized her grasp of the situation in Douglas.

“Guerrero,” he said, because all the bullshit in town, one way or the other, came back to that smooth-talking asshole.

“If you’re planning to take down Fenning, you better damned sure have a play ready to keep the land out of that drug lord bastard’s hands, or Douglas will be screwed even worse than it already is.” Gina’s tone suggested she hated Guerrero as much as everyone else, and Luke realized he probably reminded her of everything she had fled in New Jersey and New York City.

And as long as she was talking—

“Do you know anything about competition for Guerrero, encroaching on most of the Douglas and Bisbee areas—or where Guerrero’s moving his product?”

Gina flexed her elbows without changing her pistol’s position, but she didn’t have Luke sited anymore. “I don’t, but I’d wager Joyce Butler does. She was hot for that deputy who went down in the rustling scheme—what was his name—Woods?”

Luke nodded, then felt a wash of relief as Gina finally lowered her Ruger. She kept the grip in both hands, and he didn’t make any moves.

“At some point, my husband will show up here searching for me,” Gina said. “If I were you, I’d stay as far away from him as you can get. Tell your friends in local law enforcement. I don’t want—” She let out a small, pained sigh. “I don’t want any more blood on my hands.”

Luke met her gaze, noting the fresh tears trying to push out of her green eyes. “Are you sure you won’t let me give you some names? I know some honest men, Gina. I’m an honest man.”

For a few long seconds, Gina actually seemed to be considering his offer, but then she frowned and gave her head a single, sharp shake. “I’d bet my life on that, but I won’t bet Lola’s.”

What could Luke say to that?

Nothing at all, so he didn’t try.

The most he could do for Gina now was be still and let her get finished—then work his ass off to keep her brother out of Clay Wayland’s jail.

“I’m leaving now, Luke Denver,” Gina said. “If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.”

Luke didn’t answer that either, because no answer was necessary. The lady had just made him a promise he figured she’d keep—and he didn’t aim to find out if she meant it.

Gina holstered her weapon and slipped out of his kitchen—not toward the front door, but toward his bedroom. He heard the rasp of his window sliding upward, then a second rasp as she closed it behind her.

How the hell had he missed the marking at one of his window frames? He allowed himself three seconds to be irritated that he’d have to postpone his lunch with Trinity, and that trip to the cave where she learned all about sex and fantasies and dreams.

Work again. It always came back around to that, didn’t it?

Luke unfolded his arms and got on the phone to Rios in one big hurry.

“Yeah. Get Wayland and Ralston, and head to Bull Fenning’s place. We’ve got a lot more than footprint data now—a real break on the UDA murder. If you can call it that. I’ll brief you when I get there.”

Trinity never got the chance to keep avoiding her sister and Zack. She finished taking her shower, combed out her wet hair, yanked on a comfortable pair of flannel pajamas and slippers—and Zack came knocking on her door to look at the final printouts from her body temp overlay analysis again.

“I’m heading to Bull Fenning’s,” he said, stepping back from her worktable. His gray eyes seemed intense and focused. “I, ah, want Luke to go with me in case this goes bad for Fenning and Brad Taylor needs some extra help. He asked me to tell you he might not be back in time for lunch tomorrow.”

“I understand.” Trinity smiled in spite of the burst of disappointment. Running a ranch and working in law enforcement had a lot of similarities. Some things just couldn’t wait. “But, Zack, wait a minute, okay?”

She shifted the papers on her desk and pointed to the last analysis she’d been working on, but hadn’t finished yet. “This one set of prints here, the ones you and Wayland’s people didn’t think were related to this crime scene. I’ve been giving them a second look.”

“We think Fenning had a man helping him. Those tracks probably belong to him, checking up on Fenning.” Zack was heading toward the bedroom door. “Making sure the body disposal went like it was supposed to. We’ll find out soon enough.”

“I think those are female prints,” Trinity called after Zack, and she heard his mumbled response.

“We’ll look at it later.”

Trinity slid the paper back toward her laptop and sighed. She didn’t much feel like fooling with any of it tonight. She still felt embarrassed. Unsettled. And... hungry.

Time to head to the kitchen.

It was close to ten but she had a good feeling she’d find Skylar there.

Trinity’s stomach growled as she padded down the hallway— she hadn’t eaten since noon and she was starving. She passed the twinkling Christmas tree, rounded the corner, and headed into the kitchen, and sure enough, there was Skylar at the breakfast nook with a half gallon of Rocky Road and two spoons sticking out of the ice cream. Her sister appeared to be deep in thought, playing with her spoon in the Rocky Road.

The kitchen was spotless, but Trinity caught the delicious smell of roasted meat—probably pot roast—and her stomach grumbled again. It was so quiet that the rumbling of her belly was the only sound Trinity could hear other than the ticking of the kitchen clock.

As she approached her sister, Trinity felt heat rise to her face. “Save any for me?” she asked as she sank into the chair opposite Skylar.

Skylar looked up and smiled as she gestured toward one of the spoons. “Dig in. Unless you’d rather start with dinner.”

Thankful to have something to do with her hands and mouth, Trinity shook her head and grasped the spoon. “This is most definitely the dinner of champions,” she replied as she dug out a particularly large chunk and then stuffed it into her mouth.

“So...” Skylar’s voice trailed off, and Trinity knew what was coming next. “You and Luke, huh?”

Trinity shrugged, her face burning hotter than ever while she studied her spoon and slowly chewed the chocolate ice cream filled with marshmallows, nuts, and fudge. The taste was welcoming and comforting, and somehow it had always made it easier to talk with her sister.

After she swallowed, Trinity glanced from her spoon to her sister. “It all started that first night I came home. I met Luke at Nevaeh’s Christmas party.”

Skylar raised one eyebrow. “You’ve been seeing him that long?”

“Well, sort of, but not exactly.” Trinity dug her spoon into the softening ice cream. “He’s been working on me, and I’ve been fighting the attraction,” she said before taking another bite.

Shaking her head, Skylar replied, “That sounds awfully familiar.” She winked at Trinity. “And knowing Luke, when he sets his mind to something, he doesn’t give up. Not for anything.” She licked her spoon, a thoughtful look on her face. “So what about Richard, or Rocky, or whatever his name was with the British accent and the corny rented sports car?”

Trinity swallowed the mouthful of Rocky Road and snorted back a laugh. “Race.”

“Whatever.” Skylar pushed the ice cream carton aside and leaned over the table, closer to Trinity. “I knew you said you’d cut it off by phone and e-mail, but when he came to the door, I wondered.”

“He needed to hear it face-to-face. So did I, really.” Trinity dug into the ice cream again. “Felt more final after that.”

“That accent alone’s enough to give any woman the shivers. And he’s one fine-looking man.” Skylar pointed her ice scream spoon at Trinity. “When he started talking, it was all I could do to find my tongue.”

Trinity smiled. “I sure fell for that refined British accent.” Her smile faded as she considered the reason why their relationship hadn’t worked. “I really think the world of Race, but the problem was that he’s too reserved. I know he cares about me, and probably loves me in his own way, but something happened in his past that caused him to lock away his emotions and feelings.”

Trinity toyed with the spoon as she spoke, studying her upside- down reflection on its shiny surface. “It wasn’t until I met Luke that I realized Race was truly passionless. I realized that I need someone who’s able to feel and live.” She raised her eyes to meet her sister’s. “And I wasn’t the right woman to set Race free. Just like he couldn’t set me free.”

“Sorry about walking in on you and Luke.” Skylar’s cheeks went pink and her hand moved to the peridot heart pendant at her throat. “I was feeding the horses and that devil Satan, when I heard noises in the office. After the postcard and the fire—”

“We should have locked the door.” Trinity was sure her own face was Christmas red. “It was our first time, and we went kind of wild.”

Skylar’s eyebrows shot up. “Your first time with him and he gave it to you in the ass?”

Resisting the urge to duck under the table and hide, Trinity nodded. “Well, actually, that was after we did it the, ah, usual way.”

Her sister leaned forward on the table again. “So tell me. How did it feel? In the ass, I mean.”

Trinity laughed and before she thought better of it, she said, “As wild as you and Zack have always had it, you’ve never tried anal sex?”

Skylar frowned. “I’ve never told you about our sex life.”

“Oops.” Trinity chewed the inside of her lower lip, then decided to spill the beans. “You know, back when you and Zack were dating... before he left?”

Skylar’s spoon clattered to the tabletop and she clasped her pendant tighter. “You didn’t.”

Trinity hid a grin and gave a solemn nod instead. “Up at that place you called your hideaway. There’s a cave hidden behind some bushes. I was curious and hid out there and watched you guys.”

“Oh. My. God.” Skylar slowly shook her head, an expression of disbelief on her features. “I can’t believe it.”

“Let’s just say it was a real education for a teenage girl.” Trinity stuck her spoon into the ice cream that had softened to the point of turning into a mudslide instead of Rocky Road. “Better eat up. It’s melting.”

Laughter escaped Skylar and she raised her hands in an
I give up
gesture. “Well, I sure don’t feel so bad walking in on you and Luke now.”

Trinity snorted and giggled and then in the next moment the sisters collapsed into fits of laughter. Tears rolled down their cheeks, and Trinity laughed so hard that her stomach ached.

God, but it felt good to laugh.

And even with all the stress, even with all the craziness in Douglas and at the Flying M, it felt really good to be home.

In the near darkness, the Bar F looked like a kicked beehive full of flashing lights. When Luke got there, he counted half a dozen law enforcement vehicles, marked and unmarked, and more were coming up fast behind him. Floodlights had been set up in the yard, making the sidewalk and porch bright as noon. Crime-scene tape marked an area to the right, leading to an outbuilding where Luke presumed Bull Fenning kept his meat locker.

Luke got out of his truck and put on his black Stetson, and made his way to Clay Wayland, who was standing by the front door making notes on a pocket-sized pad. Clay Wayland’s deputies were already leading Bull Fenning away from the massive stone ranch house in handcuffs, and the big man had his head down so low his chin seemed to be part of his chest.

“Damn shame that boy from Mexico had to die.” Clay Wayland lowered his pad and adjusted his tan Stetson as he greeted Luke. “I’d like to get my hands on the fucking coyote who cut that poor kid loose and sent him wandering across Bull’s land in the middle of the damned night.”

“Something has to change.” Luke watched as the deputies helped Bull into the back of a marked car.

He knew stopping fuckheads like Guerrero was key to ending scenes like this. Before the American people and the people of Mexico would ever embrace immigration reform, the drug lords had to be put out of business. Everything along the border, all the issues—sooner or later, they meshed together. Couldn’t fix one without fixing the others, too. Not really. Sometimes it felt a lot like shoveling shit out of a manure pile the size of Canyon de Chelly.